Post # 30: Goodbye, Emmy

TULLY says . . .

Most of Mom and Dad's suitcases are put away, which is a relief. It appears they are home for good. The pet sitter left yesterday. She was a good sort, but of course things were not the same as they are with my parents. I can't blame her; she did her best.

DIVA says . . .

Emmy is so sad! Water rolled out of her eyes! I don't like it when humans do that. I liked her a lot! Her toes tasted good after a shower. Come again, Emmy!

Post # 29: Mom and Dad Are Home!!!!!!!!

A.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

Mom and Dad, I enjoy creating this blog for you; please don't misunderstand me. But I often fear it's dull. When I voiced my concerns to our neighbor Dave (see yesterday's post), he asked if I had repeated a topic. Unfortunately, yes. Len's dog Abby has been pictured twice, as has Mom's friend Jeanie. Today we sin again with a photo of Fiona's "mom," on her way to school and thus, not walking Fiona. Diva, much enamored of this girl, barked and leapt with joy. I'm not ready to let her pet me yet, but I may one day. I sense that she's an especially kind human, and those are few and far between.

P.M. POST

DIVA says . . .

We'd just had our afternoon walk and spoonful of peanut butter when Emmy went out. That's funny—she never goes out in the evening. Guess Tully and I will take a little nap. Wait . . . I hear the car. Wait a minute . . . is that Mom and Dad? Mom! Dad! It's you! You're back! Oh, frabjous day! I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you! Oh, you smell so good! That's it, scratch there. Oh, I missed you so much. Oh, oh, . . . .

Words fail me.

Post # 28: Happy Memorial Day

A.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

Be glad I'm "on call" this morning, Mom and Dad. Diva wanted to sing, "Oh, what a dew-ew-wy morning!" and wish you Happy May-Morial Day. I told her she could have some of my Cheerios tonight if she would let me write the A.M. Post, and she acquiesced. The Flying Pu Dog visited our patio during the night. Please come home and chase him away.

P.M. POST

DIVA says . . .

Jeanie brought you a surprise! It's so pretty! Can you guess? Can you? Do you want a hint? Oh, I want to tell you but I can't! On our walk this afternoon we saw Dave. He put out lots and lots of garbage bags because he's been spring cleaning. Emmy's been cleaning, too. She stayed home with us all day! Mom and Dad, I miss you!

Post # 27: Happy Birthday, Mom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

I'm lying here licking the dog sitter's toes, Mom, but it's a poor substitute—it's your feet I long to be licking! Oh, how I wish I could be with you on your special day, and not just because bits of cake tend to fall the floor on such occasions. The dog sitter tells us that very soon you'll be sitting next to me on my "nest," warm and cozy and safe. Since I don't understand the concept of time—or any concept, for that matter—that comforts me not at all. But I can tell by the sitter's increased efforts at cleaning that something is afoot. Happy Birthday, Mom!!!

DIVA says . . .

I'm so wiggly with excitement that I can't sit still. It's your Happy Birthday, Mom! Did you get presents? Wrapped in crinkly, scary sound paper? Cards? Ice cream???!!! Dad always asks Tully and me what gift he should buy for you. I hope he did OK on his own! I bet you look so pretty today, Mom! I miss you so much! Happy happy happy happy happy happy best birthday EVER, Mom!!!!! (And hi to you too, Dad!)

P.M. POST

DIVA says . . .

Did you have a good day? Did you, Mom? What did Dad get you? I hope you had a great birthday, Mom! Thanks for the postcard from Porvoo-Borgå. That's the funniest name I've ever heard! Did you meet any Finnish dogs? Hurry home, Mom—Tully and I have a birthday surprise for you! (Love you too, Dad!)

Post # 26: Happy Pre-Birthday, Mom!

TULLY says . . .

It is official—the dog sitter is cheating on us. "I love you, Tully," she said, stroking my back and rubbing behind my ears. I believed her. I even put up with it when the sitter confessed her love to Diva. Today's photo tells the truth: the dog sitter is in love with a horse. On top of that, she is pretentious. "Il baccio" is a label useless to anyone who isn't Italian. I am doubly betrayed.

DIVA sings . . .

"Happy pre-birthday to you,

Happy pre-birthday to you,

Happy pre-birthday, dear Mom,

Happy pre-birthday to you!"

I love you so much, Mom! I would lick you and lick you and lick you on your birthday! I would lick you every day, if I could!

Post # 25: Oh, What a . . .

A.M. POST

DIVA sings . . .

" . . . beautiful morning! Oh, what a beautiful day! I've got a wonderful feeee-ling, the recycling men will come soon!" We met Len this morning in his driveway, but Abby wasn't with him. Darn! Fiona's mom petted me on her way to school. I loved her pink shoelaces—they're Diva-licious! Enjoy your day at sea, Mom and Dad!

P.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

We met Trixie, a fetching little bitch, on our afternoon walk. I attempted to make her acquaintance but she, poor thing, is more shy than I. Perhaps we'll meet another day. Our pet sitter returned smelling of horses again. Why do I feel I'm being two-timed? The sitter is also overly emotional. A veterinarian's sign--"Pets are the family we choose for ourselves"--nearly made her cry. As a male, I rarely cry. If I cry, I lie and say that I did not. For example, I have not cried since you've been away, Mom and Dad. Not.

Post # 24: We Await Your Return

P.M. POST
TULLY says . . .

Dad, I will be so glad when you get home. I don't want to be rude, but the dog sitter still doesn't understand Play. She's slower than you are and doesn't run as many times through the kitchen. Diva, of course, is oblivious, as long as she gets to play Ball.

Thank you for the postcard from København. The sitter displays your postcards above our food dishes. As if we can read.

Post # 23: Rain, Rain Go Away

P.M. POST
DIVA says . . .
Our afternoon walk in the rain was a walk in the park compared with what's been going on today! Six tornadoes touch down in Denver! Hail so thick in Denver people have to shovel it! Flights diverted to Colorado Springs! Tornado watch, tornado warning, thunderstorms, pelting rain in St. Petersburg—I don't know how you humans cope, Mom and Dad.

Post # 22: A Weak To Go

A.M. POST

DIVA says . . .

Emmy says that today you're in St. Peters Burger. If you were worrying about the right gift to bring me, a burger would be fine. I miss you so much, Mom and Dad. Emmy says you're coming home in a weak. How long is a weak?

P.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

It was a long day alone by ourselves, Mom and Dad. The next time you go on a cruise, stress to the dog sitter that she must stay home and Play with us, rather than ride a horse at Garden of the Gods. (Although I will admit I found the equine smell on her pants intriguing.) The sitter thinks a robust afternoon walks excuses her absence; I beg to differ. We met a new dog, Skippy, but ignore him. His owner has put him on a diet and I don't want you to get any ideas.

P.S.: Thank you for the postcard from Brugge.

Post # 21: An Ill Wind Blows

A.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

On our morning walk we ran into Abby and Len, who asked if we had heard from you. Learning you were in Helsinki, he mentioned traveling to Helsinki, Copenhagen, Oslo, Leningrad, etc., upon which the dog sitter said she'd been to Leningrad, Moscow, and Amsterdam, whereupon Len mentioned another trip he took to Amsterdam, Liechtenstein, and other countries too difficult to spell. Len spied a golf bag alongside a neighbor's bags of trash (it's Monday, trash day) and said he'd been wanting a lightweight golf bag. "Merry Christmas!" said the dog sitter, and they both laughed.

This tedious conversations, Mom and Dad, explains why dogs greet each other by sniffing.

P.M. POST

DIVA says . . .

Emmy is making us watch the news—can you tell? Wind is the word of the day. 68 mph gusts in Colorado Springs! Trees down! Cog Railway to Pikes Peak closed for 2 hours! Downed power lines cause fires! Worst of all, it's a bad hair day for Tully! Love you, Mom and Dad!

Post # 20: Morning Post-less

P.M. POST
TULLY says . . .
We didn't write a morning post today simply because nothing was going on. We aren't cavorting aboard a cruise ship as you are, Mom and Dad, or hopping on and off water taxis in Stockholm without a care in the world. Pelted with rain, were you? Forced to buy an umbrella? At least no one left you with a dog sitter for a month.

It's not easy being me.


DIVA says . . .
We met great new friends on our walk—Stuart and Gabriel, fluffy little Pomeranians! Their noses are all mushed in. How in the heck can they smell anything? Millie was out, too. Now a breeze is blowing in the front door, Emmy gave us peanut butter after our walk, and I feel great! Mom and Dad, why are you going to Hell Sinky tomorrow? You are good! Good people go to Heaven Sinky!

Post # 19: Tale of the Pu Dog

CONFUCIUS say . . .

"In ancient China there was a breed of dog known as the Chinese Fu Dog. These dogs were bred for herding and hunting. Fu Dogs were much revered. But one day a Fu Dog was born that could not be house trained. His owner was at his wit's end.

"'Bad Fu Dog! All you do is poo!' the man cried. He was mean. He kicked the dog so hard it flew high into the air. The dog flew so high that it grew wings and flew away. 'Good riddance, you' yelled the man. 'You're a Pu Dog!'

"To this day, the Flying Pu Dog is afraid to walk on land, lest someone mistreat him. Instead, he circles the earth, dropping unwanted 'presents.' Many a good dog has been blamed for the accidents of the Flying Pu Dog."

DIVA says . . .

Mom! Dad! This explains everything!

Post # 18: A Really Nice Day

A.M. POST

Tully says . . .

I am breaking my strike only to say that

• I was stupendously "successful" on the morning walk, and

• I am not responsible for any insults to the carpet or patio.

So there.

P.M. POST

DIVA says . . .

The weather was scrumptious today! Mom and Dad, you've got to try rolling in the grass this time of year. It's the bomb! Tully saved us today! A man was out behind the patio pushing a loud machine across the lawn. Tully barked and barked and barked—and the man went away! I'm so proud of my brother, even though he's throwing me under the bus for all the accidents. How was Coping Hoggin?

Post # 17: Tully on Strike

DIVA says . . .

Tully is on strike from writing our blog, Mom and Dad. He saw emails between Emmy and you about "accidents" and the "dog's schedule" and got huffy. Defamation of character, I think he said. If you ask me, I think he's seen too many ads on TV ("If you've got a phone, you've got a lawyer").

Tully and I did the usual stuff today, and Emmy had the best day ever! Her friend Jeannie is in town. She's fun! Emmy said, "Jeannie, you're sitting in the Ball chair." So Jeannie threw the ball! Then she and Emmy went to the Broadmoor Hotel, drove through Garden of the Gods, and ate dinner in Manitou Springs. Whew! I could smell beef and chicken fajitas on Emmy's fingers, but she didn't bring me any.

I never realized what a responsibility it is to write the only post of the day, the official record of May 20, 2010. I'll have a talk with Tully, Mom and Dad. I'm sure he'll feel better tomorrow.

Have a good time in Coping Hoggin! If you eat herring, it's OK if you don't bring leftovers.

Post # 16: Two Much

A.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

As you know, Mom and Dad, when you arrived in Europe the dog sitter changed the format of this blog from one to two posts a day, early and late, because of the time difference between us. It's a lovely theory: You have something new to read whenever you go online. But I am against the idea. It's twice as much work for me, and let's face it, every morning is the same as the next. We wake the sitter at an ungodly hour, wee, eat breakfast, and go for a walk. Tell me, do you really say, "Dearest, before we go ashore to see ancient castles, I must read the blog to see if the dogs had a bowel movement?"

I rest my case.

P.M. POST

DIVA says . . .

Mom and Dad, I wish you could have been here! Our afternoon walk was a neighbor-fest! We met Tillie and Gloria, two ladies who found me charming. Then Tully let Tillie pet him, which surprised me. Tully doesn't let anyone pet him! "Tillie and Tully! Tillie and Tully!" Emmy kept saying. Tully stole my thunder big time. Worse, Gloria knew I was jealous and gave me pity pats. As Tully "took us home" a big black dog that looked a little scary walked toward us. Luckily, Sadie (the big black dog) is very friendly and so is her mom, Lana.

Post # 15: Friends!

A.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

Diva and I were exceptionally "successful" on our morning walk, so much so that we returned to the house to dispose of the "bags of success," then continued the walk. The dog sitter then proceeded in the direction opposite our usual route. Initially I was unpleased, but we visited different yards with intriguing new scents; I forgave the sitter for the deviation. We saw our friend Abby, who was driving with Len for a haircut (Len's) and to Denver to see friends (Len's). I don't know why that would be enjoyable to Abby, but to each her own. I am happy lying on the rug, my intestinal system in a rare state of equilibrium. I can only wish you the same, Mom and Dad.

P.M. POST

DIVA says . . .

What a day we had, Mom and Dad! I followed Emmy around all morning, helping her straighten up the house and take a shower, and didn't get a morning nap. Your friend Jeanie visited! She brought you an early birthday card. I wasn't a very good hostess; I almost fell asleep while Jeanie and Emmy were talking. This afternoon on our walk we met two new dogs--Millie (little and white) and Dottie (big and black). It's good to have friends.

Be careful tomorrow when you go to Harwich; I don't know if Harwich is a good witch or a bad witch.

Post # 14: Dog Sitter Forgets Breakfast

A.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

Alert the media! Diva and I tried to tell the dog sitter—breakfast before walk, breakfast before walk! But she harnessed us, leashed us, and paraded us outside like a proud momma duck with her ducklings. I was so hungry that it was difficult to observe social niceties when we ran into Fiona, the Pit Bull-Beagle.

Note to dog sitter: As a reminder that we eat before our morning walk, take the dog bowls out of the dishwasher immediately after the cycle is complete. Place the dog bowls on the kitchen counter before going to bed. I mean it.

P.M. POST

DIVA says . . .

Hi, Mom and Dad! Boy, the neighborhood was busy today! First the big old grinding garbage truck rolled through. Then a lot of men with big noisy machines invaded! Our grass is shorter now (less ticklish when I pee) and all the ants came out because the grass next to the sidewalks is trimmed. See the picture of Tully and the leaf blower? We hate the leaf blower. Emmy wanted me and Tully to sit with her on the back patio but we didn't want to—it was too hot!

Post # 13: Sun Day

A.M. POST

DIVA says . . .

It's morning! The sun is out! It frosted last night! We had a great walk. Emmy always brings her camera. I don't know how she juggles two leashes, poop bags, and her camera, especially since Tully and I walk on opposite sides of her and like to switch sides. Often. Have a fun day, Mom and Dad!

P.M POST

TULLY says . . .

Today was yet another day that Diva and I were left alone. To be fair, the dog sitter fulfilled her obligations of breakfast, walks, snacks, and Playtime, but fell short on patting. stroking, and cooing. To her credit, she returned with the smell of numerous canines—even equines—on her person.

Mom and Dad, you must speak to the sitter about her incessant picture taking. Today she placed her camera on a mailbox and took a time-delayed photo of the three of us. But look who I'm talking to—you'll probably like the picture.

DIVA says . . .

Hi, Mom and Dad! Tully and I had a great day! We napped, tussled, barked at the wind, and licked our paws. Emmy visited the Budweiser Clydesdales. I don't know what those are, but she smelled great. Speaking of smells, Emmy broke one of Mom's perfume samples. She's really sorry. She cleaned up the floor so Tully and I wouldn't cut ourselves. The good news is, the bathroom smells wonderful!

I'm glad you liked Liz-bun. What did you buy me?

Post # 12: New Format: Two Posts Each Day

A.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

Mom and Dad, the dog sitter, who is also helping us write this blog, says that because you're nine hours ahead of us (which I don't understand) that Diva and I must now post twice a day. It seems like overkill to me, but I don't want to disagree with the hand that feeds me.

It is only 7:30 a.m., and yet I have convinced the sitter to get up before 6:00 to let us out, pooped twice, "taken us home," eaten my Greenie, and posted to our blog. Some people don't accomplish that much in an entire day. I'm on a roll. More to come.

P.M. POST

TULLY says . . .

After my initial morning exuberance, life slowed to its usual rhythm. The dog sitter was out most of the day, leaving Diva and me to relax as we always do when we're home by ourselves. We took advantage of abundant napping spots, drank water, and barked at rain and other unexpected noises. All in all, a good day. How are your sea legs?

DIVA says . . .

I like the dog door open all the time! It's easier when I have to wee. Emmy went to the Wild Wild West Fest in Pueblo. She said Pueblo was sunny and warm and gave her the will to live. I don't know what she meant, but she sure smelled good—like bar-b-que, funnel cakes, ponies, and hay.

But she does something terrible. Emmy pats her hand on the love seat and when I jump up she brushes me! Sure, it's just a few licks, but it's awful. Time to go to bed. Night night, Mom and Dad.

Post # 11: Rain

TULLY says . . .

The incessant cold and wet is getting to us. We spent the day indoors—of course, we always do—but the dog sitter was underfoot all day, which isn't the same as spending a pleasant day with you, Mom and Dad. She curled up on the love seat and proceeded to snore through North by Northwest and Lolita. I don't understand the intrinsic value of classic films. I prefer commercial interruptions featuring dog food.

Thank you for your itinerary. We will study it carefully and wish you the speediest return possible to us.

DIVA says . . .

Hi, Mom and Dad! Emmy says you're in Liz-bun. Is that anything like a cinnamon bun? Yum! This morning on our walk we met Len and Abby again. And we met a big dog, a Pit Bull-Beagle mix named Fiona. Fiona is so friendly! My feet got wet this afternoon. Your feet must be wet all the time, Mom and Dad, since you're on an ocean.

Post # 10: This and That

DIVA says . . .

Mom and Dad, did you know about the Warrior Games in Colorado Springs? I'm so proud Dad is a veteran! Guess what? It snowed again today! Just a few flakes. And there's more snow coming! I love Colorado! Emmy lay down on the floor with us and took pictures. I don't like cameras, but she took a nice picture of me. It's hard to do, 'cause Tully and I run away when we see a camera.

I'm glad your cold is better, Mom. If you had snuck me on the ship I could lick it away!

TULLY says . . .

The regularity of my digestive system still leaves a little to be desired, which is why I was grateful that the sitter left the dog door open last night. Because I am certain she will inform on me—she seems that type—I will confess that I lap the water under the ladder on the patio. The sitter caught me in the act, and plans to do her best to stop me in the future.

I have so little fun. The dog sitter initiates Play, but she is interminably slow and objects when my teeth get too close to her thigh. How can I help but have contact--the briefest of contact, I assure you--with her leg when it is (ahem) a trifle large?

Oh dear. The sitter became so involved in helping me with this post that she burned her chicken. Undoubtedly you can smell it thousands of miles away. Let's just say I won't be begging tonight.

Well, maybe a little.

Post # 9: Snow!

TULLY says . . .

I understand snow but not the calendar, so I didn't share the dog sitter's amazement over the snow on the ground this morning or last night's storm. Admittedly, Diva and I were somewhat frightened by the thunder. Our reactions were normal, said the sitter. Today's nip in the air refreshed us, so much so that both Diva and I were "successful" on both a.m. and p.m. walks. Did you know that hail is crunchy? The wet weather plays havoc with Diva's and my fur, which is unfortunate, as the dog sitter ambushes us at least once a day with the brush.

DIVA says . . .

Emmy, Tully, and I just hung out today. We had fun! Emmy did laundry, looked through Mom's catalogs, and ate sugar-free Fudgesicles. Tully and I woke her from a nap and made her do Play. She still can't run as fast as Dad. But she throws the ball OK. I loooove Ball!

Mom, I drooled over the picture you emailed us of Dad with the five-dollar ice cream cone. I don't know if it was because I miss Dad so much or because I looove ice cream. Did they have dog treats in Bermuda?

Guess what? It's snowing again!

Post # 8: Movement

TULLY says . . .

Some may criticize me for waking the dog sitter an hour early, but I was a man on a mission, if you know what I mean. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. I did it on the next door neighbor's lawn. Ahhhh . . . . enough said.

The vet called. Our blood work is great and our platelets and clotting factor numbers are normal. I don't know what that means but I trust you will. All I can say is, I'm glad Diva and I have recovered. Thank you for taking such good care of us, Mom and Dad. Special thanks for ponying up for the bills.

The dog sitter ate coconut chicken curry for dinner and let me tell you—one sniff and I wanted to wang-dang-doodle all night long! I cozied up to her on the couch, I gazed at her with raw longing, I might even have whined a little—and she gave me nothing. Please find someone less responsible the next time you go away.

DIVA says . . .

Tonight after our walk Emmy brought all her things upstairs and moved into your room, Mom and Dad, as you said she could. The stairs hurt her knees. I guess we won't be sleeping in the Man Cave any more. I helped Emmy make the bed—I licked the pillows!

It's raining and we're all comfy cozy. Emmy is doing important things on her computer and I'm curled up nearby, next to the kitchen bench. Tully is lying on the TV room floor. I could doze off right now if it weren't for Cheerios, which Emmy won't give us for another hour. Mom, I hope you get over your cold soon. We love you so, so much, Mom and Dad!

P.S.—It's 10 p.m.! There is hail! And thunder!!!

Post # 7: Monday, Monday

TULLY says . . .
On our morning walk we met our neighbor Len and his dog, Abby. I offered her the "doggy handshake." She, lovely girl, didn't mind a bit.


Then the sitter drove Diva and me to the veterinarian. Ah, the indignity. Not to mention pain. There's a reason they take animals into a separate area: so people never see what goes on. We'll get the blood test results tomorrow. Don't worry, Mom and Dad, I feel fine.


And please don't worry that one of us—I don't want to name names—has been leaving "presents" in the living room. The pet sitter is duly concerned and is considering options: More time on the "success" lawn? Longer walks? Leave the doggy door open? No matter how it comes out in the end (pun intended), I appreciate people fussing over me.




DIVA says . . .

Mom and Dad, it was such a pretty day. We were good at the vet! We like Carol, the vet tech. Did we tell you about the ants? Zillions of them, swarming all over our front curb! Yesterday we ran into Dave, the neighbor across street, and Emmy told him she was worried that the ants might bite our little doggy toes. Dave took one look, ran to his garage, and sprayed an entire can of bug spray on the little buggers. Today--no more ants! Thank you, Dave!

Post # 6: Happy Mother's Day!

TULLY and DIVA say . . .
We miss you so much, Mom, especially today—our first Mother's Day in your family—when you're floating around on the Atlantic Ocean and we're at home, in Colorado Springs. So we wrote a poem. It's a little weird. It's a Hi Coo, which is Japanese, and we're Scottish. It doesn't rhyme or sound like a greeting card. But we told Emmy how much we loved you, and here's what the three of us wrote. (Dad, don't feel left out! We'll write you an even better poem in June!)

POEM FOR OUR MOM

Soft is Mother's love.

Fierce is Mother's protection.

Safe at last, we rest.

Post # 5: Things Aren't the Same

TULLY says . . .

After my earlymorning much-needed wee, I frolicked next door on Toma's lawn. The dog sitter, who was barefoot and in her nightgown, had to run out onto our lawn and whisper-shout at me to come back. Mom and Dad, I wish I'd had a camera! Diva and I are regular, both input and output. Our melancholy seems not to be affecting our systems, for which I'm sure you'll be grateful.

DIVA says . . .

Emmy caved and let me lick her lunch plate: shaved turkey and wheat bread. There were yummy pizza smells for dinner, but no plate-licking. Darn. And she won't let me sleep on her bed! I'm bummed. Especially since she went back to bed after lunch. The altitude thing. Ball time is different, too. Emmy throws OK, but half the time when I push the ball back to her, she doesn't catch it. But hey, it's Ball! My favorite! We just had the last wee (Tully went; I didn't have to), a short Play, and our Cheerios. Goodnight, Mom and Dad! Love you!

Post # 4: Forgive Us?

TULLY says . . .

Mom, remember when you thought I would drink out of the water dish only if you held the bowl? I truly reveled in that kind of service. Then Dad overheard me drinking on my own, and no one holds the bowl any more, darn it. But today I convinced the dog sitter I wouldn't eat all my breakfast unless she held the bowl. Masterful! I'm certain I can fool her again tomorrow.

My intestinal system appears to be back to normal. I was "firmly successful" on the morning walk. The dog sitter shut the dog door this morning, the first time since you left. Tonight your cream colored carpet is spotless.

Sometimes, when the dog sitter strokes me, my tail wags. It's involuntary; I would never be disloyal, Mom and Dad. I hope you'll forgive your favorite son.


DIVA says . . .
Hi, Mom and Dad! Are you having fun on your cruise? We can't wait to get your itinerary! Emmy's going to find a map and show me and Tully where you are! Speaking of maps, Emmy wanted a good one of Colorado Springs because she keeps getting lost. Big disappointment—the maps at the Visitor Center weren't right. A nice lady named Kay who worked there whispered, "Let me see what I can do." A minute later Kay brought out the perfect map. Thank you, Kay! I would lick your hand if I could!

Mom, you thought I would be verklempt and not eat for days. The truth is, I'm eating all my breakfast and snacks and Greenies just like always (and pooping and tinkling, too). I hope you can forgive your best little girl for not being verklempt enough.

Post # 3: Peas and Quiet

DIVA says . . .

You know it's a quiet day when the dog sitter sleeps more than the dogs! "Altitude," Emmy murmured this morning as she huffed and puffed up the steps from her room. She mixed breakfast perfectly—chow, chicken broth, beef, carrots, peas. I ate every bite. I'm a good dog! And I pooped twice today. I'm a good girl!

It rained during our afternoon walk. Emmy always stops and looks at Pike's Peak. "Instead of its usual snowy cap, gray-blue clouds swirled about its granite flanks," she murmured. It took her quite awhile to come up with that sentence. Emmy is a writer. A writer is someone who uses a lot of big words arranged funny. That's my definition, not hers.

Emmy moved my sheepskin next to Bob, Dad's napping couch. I slept well last night. Mom and Dad, I miss you more than words can say. If I were there I would lick you and lick you!

TULLY says . . .

I miss you so much that, out of desperation, I have begun to lie by the dog sitter and allow her to stroke me. She doesn’t do it correctly, which is disappointing. Mom and Dad, the sitter says you're on a cruise in the ocean. She said it's sort of like being in a very big bathtub. You know how I feel about baths.

It appears that the sitter's fondness for the love seat next to MY couch will not abate. So today I begrudgingly lay in my "nest" while—a few feet away—she ate, channel surfed, drank Diet Coke, read travel magazines, and typed on her computer. All at the same time. On top of everything, there's a cold front coming and she's considering increasing the temperature in the house to 68°. What is the world coming to when your parents prefer a bathtub over you and your home becomes a sauna?

As far as my digestion goes, I was "successful" this morning. It was a "normal success," if you know what I mean. And if you don't, I'm not going to be more clear in this venue. It is embarrassing enough that Diva is so frank. I miss you dearly.

Post # 2: Goodbye, Mom and Dad

TULLY says . . .
For a dog, the saddest sight in the world is your family carrying big suitcases out the front door. Today is a sad day. That said, the dog sitter instigated Play several times and fed us peanut butter and carrots. When she paid too much attention to Diva I pouted, then allowed her to stroke me. I am not happy that she likes the love seat in the TV room next to my "nest." For the moment I am resorting to the living room couch.

So as not to discuss bodily functions in a public forum, I'll just say that I have had no accidents in the house or on the patio, but neither have I had "success" on the "lawn on the left" on our afternoon walk. On the walk the pet sitter let the "bag of Diva's success" blow in the wind and it frightened me. The sitter is not up to your standards, Dad.


Mom, the pet sitter said you called from Miami. What is a Miami?

DIVA says . . .

Ooooooooh, sometimes I miss you just awful. Emmy. the sitter, followed our schedule, except after our walk we went to the mailbox. Emmy stuck the key in the wrong mailbox! A big Sheltie was visiting the neighborhood! It didn't know what to think of me and Tully.

Emmy played Ball with me! Sje Played with Tully and me, too. Dad, she's slower than you. But I guess you take what you get. I hardly coughed at all. I slept awhile in the office, Mom, next to your desk. (Sigh.) The sheepskin I sleep on, which is always in your room, was moved downstairs, in the Man Cave! It was in the guest room, where Emmy is sleeping. Not for me. I found a spot next to Bob, Dad's fat blue napping couch.

Emmy says today is Cinco de Mayo. Why would anyone celebrate kitchen sinks and mayonnaise? My idea of a good holiday is Thanksgiving, when turkey and stuffing fall on the floor. Love you, Mom and Dad!

Post # 1: Concern

TULLY says . . .
Suitcases are out, Mom and Dad are flapping about, and I see oversize bags of treats on the kitchen counter (all natural, bison and lamb; mmm). Ordinarily the Parents don't stockpile treats, which is why I find myself both drooling and feeling concern.

The worst? Yesterday a stranger came—and she's still here. She accompanied us on our walk. "Take us home, Tully!" cried Dad. I picked up the pace and led Diva and Dad safely back to the house. I heard Mom say that the stranger is a dog sitter. This does not bode well.

DIVA says . . .

I'm covering my ears with my paws. "La la la la la la la! I can't hear you . . . talking about your cruise!" Tully and I took Dad for a nice walk this morning, then ate Greenies. Dad showed Emmy, a dog sitter, how to Play. First Dad cries "Play!" Then he runs in circles through the kitchen and living room. Tully and I run after him and bark, bark, bark! Then Dad and I played Ball in the living room. Nothing broke, Mom. Guess who came to visit? Mom's friend and her daughters! I love playing with the girls. They throw the little blue ball over and over and over. Nothing broke, Mom.